[CHAPTER VII.]
A BAD HALF HOUR.
Matt, Glennie, the two captains, and the negroes were stupefied. They stood as though rooted to the ground and stared across the water toward the spot where the Grampus had been anchored.
"Sacre!" muttered Captain Pons. "Zat was a torpedo, by gar!"
"It was fired at the Grampus!" cried Matt, almost beside himself. "I was afraid an attack would be made—and the boys didn't know anything about that other submarine, Glennie. If our boat has been destroyed, if—if——"
Matt staggered against the post to which the painter securing the rowboat was made fast.
The negroes began talking excitedly between themselves, and Pons and Arco likewise began to air their opinions.
"Don't lose your nerve, Matt," said Glennie. "That was a torpedo, all right, and it goes without saying that the Japs discharged it from the Pom, under water. It hit something, and was discharged, but it didn't hit the Grampus."
"No," answered Matt, his moody eyes resting on the spot where the Grampus had been anchored, "the torpedo didn't hit the Grampus, for the column of water spouted up almost a fathom from the place where she was moored; but the boat may have been destroyed by the explosion, for all that. When the geyser dropped, it covered the place where our submarine ought to have been. But you can see, Glennie, she isn't there."